


Folds and Creases

by ratpoet



Series: Kash and Grab Chronicles [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: :I, Fluff, M/M, Season 3, cuteness, i'm sleepy, origami!, paper planes!, yay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratpoet/pseuds/ratpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mickey knows origami but not how to make a paper airplane and Ian’s the infuriating asshole he always is about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Folds and Creases

**Author's Note:**

> (No relation to other fics in this series)
> 
> I don’t actually know origami, and I didn’t have the patience to watch the entire video on YouTube. So please assume Mickey has magical powers if you find that the steps I’ve mentioned can never lead to anything other than a sad failure. :)

“How bored are you, exactly?” Mickey asks from his spot near the door as Ian slowly lifts his head from where it’s resting on his textbook and starts ripping out sheets of paper from a notebook.

Ian mumbles out something and continues ripping out sheets.

Mickey watches with a raised eyebrow. Finally, when he can't take it anymore, he moves forward and snatches the notebook out of Ian’s hands.

Ian makes a sound of protest and a wild stabbing motion in an attempt to wrench the notebook back, but Mickey’s too fast for him.

“Why the fuck do you have to waste paper just because you’re bored?” Mickey asks, setting the notebook down on a shelf. He knows there isn’t any danger of Ian getting his ass off the stool and fetching it back- he’s way too lazy for that.

A badly aimed ball of paper flies by Mickey’s head and lands at the other end of the store. Mickey smirks and shakes his head. Ian didn’t even try.

“Since when have you become a Greenpeace advocate?” Ian asks him, lips jutting out in a slight pout. He hasn’t pouted properly since the time Mickey saw him doing it and teased him for three entire days about it. Mickey’s glad- he doesn’t need his attention called to Ian’s lips any more than it already is.

But he figures it’s only a matter of time before Ian gets over it and starts pouting again.

“Just cause I'm not fucking dumb doesn’t make me a Greenpeace advocate,” Mickey says as Ian picks up one of the sheets of paper and starts folding it haphazardly.

When he’s done, he throws the paper airplane at Mickey’s head. Mickey ducks to avoid it, scowling fiercely.

“Cut it out or I’ll punch you,” Mickey says. They both know he won't do it- he doesn’t want to ruin that beautiful face, after all.

“It’s just a paper plane,” Ian says, folding another sheet of paper. Mickey watches quietly, trying to commit each step to memory.

“Go slower,” Mickey says before he can stop himself. He cringes as Ian looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes.

“Why?” he asks.

“Just… never mind,” Mickey says, eyes downcast as he fiddles with the hemline of his t- shirt. Ian looks at him quizzically, trying to figure out where this new puzzle piece fits in with the perpetual jigsaw that is Mickey Milkovich. The only explanation he can think of is that Mickey is captivated by Ian’s hands. Well, that, or…

“I was just-” Mickey begins again, but is cut short by a sudden exclamation from Ian.

“Wait, are you trying to learn how to make a plane?” Ian asks, smiling wide.

“Like fuck I am,” Mickey says, scoffing, as his cheeks turn the colour of Ian’s hair. He wants to kick himself for saying anything in the first place.

“Okay then, show me how to make a plane,” Ian says, handing Mickey a clean sheet of paper.  

For a second, Mickey considers the possibility of just leaving the store. It would definitely be a better option than embarrassing himself in front of the grinning idiot just because he never learnt how to make a paper plane when he was young.

But if he leaves the store now, he won't be able to fuck Ian in the freezer later.

Mickey grudgingly takes the sheet of paper from Ian’s hands. Ian, that absolute bastard, fucking leans back in his seat and crosses his arms, waiting for Mickey to make a move.

Mickey stares at the sheet, willing it to fold into a plane by itself. Of course, it doesn’t work. Mickey then gingerly folds the paper in two halves. He considers winging it, just randomly making folds and hoping for the best outcome, but his next fold is interrupted by a bark of laughter from Ian.

“How can you not know how to make a _paper airplane_?” Ian asks, shaking his head. “It’s not rocket science, Mick.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey says, reddening further. He wants to curse his luck. Of all the people to find out, and it just had to be Ian.

“Do you know how to make a boat?” Ian asks suddenly. Mickey’s only reply is to move his eyes away from Ian’s face.

“Really, Mickey?” Ian asks, doubled up over the counter. Mickey’s not sure whether he wants to join in with Ian’s laughter, or deck him, but he goes with picking up two sheets of paper instead.

“Watch this,” he says in a desperate attempt to distract Ian, measuring the papers roughly with his hands and tearing them into the size he needs.

Ian’s laughter dies in his throat as Mickey begins folding the first sheet of paper, his fingers deft and focussed. Mickey doesn’t even need to stop to think, he just moves from one step to another.

Ian watches, transfixed, as Mickey’s fingernails smooth the sheet over after each fold, his fingers moving with a steady sense of purpose. Mickey’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his tongue sticking out a little, and Ian just wants to get up and kiss him. He’s never seen Mickey this focussed on anything before.

Well, almost never- there was that one time they tried out a new sex position and almost strangled each other in the process. The only reason they’d emerged unharmed was because Mickey had managed to wriggle out from under Ian somehow.

It had nearly cost him an eye.

Mickey finally stops folding the first sheet of paper, which he’s somehow managed to turn into a cube, and sets it down on the counter, moving onto the next sheet of paper.

Ian’s mouth falls open without his noticing when Mickey folds the second sheet even faster than the first one. Ian’s always been obsessed with Mickey’s hands (well, he’s always been obsessed with everything even remotely related to Mickey), but this is taking it to a whole new level. Ian wants to feel those fingers on his own face, moving through his hair gently. He wants to feel those fingers ghosting over his lips, brushing past his eyelashes, trailing over his skin, holding onto his elbows, resting over his knees, rubbing circles on his stomach.

He wants to feel them snaking over his back, tracing shapes onto his skin, his fingernails scraping lightly over his body.

He wants them everywhere.

“The fuck you staring at?” Mickey asks roughly, startling Ian out of his reverie. His fingers keep moving even as his eyes stay fixed on Ian’s. Ian suspects it’s sorcery.

“Nothing,” Ian mumbles out. Mickey sniffs self-consciously, aware of Ian’s burning gaze on his hands.

He wonders why he thought this would be a good idea. Must’ve been the joint he’d shared with Ian a while ago. Or Mickey’s weird tendency to lose his ability to think around Ian.

Mickey makes a soft noise as he finishes folding up the second cube, setting it down next to the first one, and rubs his hands together.

He pauses for a minute, weighing up the pros and cons of completing the cube. On one hand, it would mean shutting Ian up for the day about Mickey’s inability to make a plane. On the other hand, it would mean giving another piece of himself to Ian, another secret he’s tried to hide surrendered over to this fucking idiot without even thinking twice.

“Go ahead, finish it,” Ian says softly, his puppy eyes on Mickey’s.

Oh well. Mickey’s doomed anyway.

He picks up the two open cubes and carefully pushes the ends of the first one into the empty space between the folds of the second. He works slower this time. He’s attempted this part enough times to know that he’ll only end up with a pitiful mess if he tries to rush it.

When what’s supposed to be the leaves finally mould themselves under the piece of paper that’s supposed to be the rose, Mickey sets the entire structure down onto the counter and softly plumps open the petals of the flower.

Ian watches it all with wide eyes, and breaks into a smile when Mickey presents the rose to him with an exaggerated bow.

“Where the fuck did you learn this?” he asks, running his fingers gently over the folds and creases, lips stretched into a smile.

It’s not precise or neat or perfect, the torn off ends of the paper jutting out from the middle, but it’s beautiful.

“Mandy taught me,” Mickey mumbles out, eyes downcast.

He doesn’t mention that he actually _wanted_ to learn how to turn paper into something entirely different, and bugged Mandy for two days just to get her to teach him.

He doesn’t mention that he’s been fascinated with craft since he was a kid, or that Ian’s the only one apart from Mandy who’s seen him make a rose out of paper.

“It’s really good, Mick,” Ian says, tapping Mickey’s tattooed knuckles to try and get Mickey to look at him.

“Whatever,” Mickey huffs, his face getting hot again.

“Hey, look at me,” Ian says, tugging at Mickey’s elbows. Mickey has no other option. He’s made his bed, and he has to lie in it.

Mickey reluctantly moves his gaze towards Ian’s. He wants to step back at the force of Ian’s smile, real and honest and bright.

“I love this,” he says forcefully, as if that will make Mickey believe him. As if Mickey ever doubted his sincerity.

Mickey tries not to read too much into it, tries to stop his lips from turning up of their own volition.

“In fact, I think you deserve a little return gift,” Ian says, pulling Mickey closer to himself as he gets up.

“Yeah?” Mickey licks his lips as Ian rummages around under the counter for the bottle of lube.

“Yeah,” Ian smiles, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to Mickey’s.

**Author's Note:**

> The thing Mickey made is called a rose cube, just in case you want to try it. I'm not saying whoever you present it to will be as happy as Ian, or reward you as well, but you can try ;)
> 
> PS I'm on tumblr @ fiandvee.tumblr.com


End file.
